To Embers We Return — Chapter 16
***
Dusk gathered; snow fell in heavy flurries from the sky. The wind was bitter enough to chill one to the bone. It was the coldest day Chang’an had seen in the last ten years, yet the weather did nothing to dampen the gaiety of the Shangyuan festivities. The centuries-old capital had clothed itself once again in all its past grandeur. The main boulevards were festooned with brilliant red lanterns, and crowds of revellers packed the broad streets of the Eastern and Western Markets.[1]
Diwu Que had left immediately after dinner. She was here on official business after all, and she had to reconvene with her superior, the Military Commissioner of Muzhou, who had just arrived in Chang’an. As they said their farewells, Diwu Que promised Shen Ni that she would call on the latter soon, along with the wedding presents she’d brought.
After parting ways with Diwu Que, Shen Ni and Zeng Qingluo rode together through the bustling streets. In her crimson robes of office and her long, sweeping cloak, Shen Ni cut a striking figure on her tall black horse. The golden pouch containing her ministerial seal hung prominently from her belt. The falling snowflakes dusted her eyelashes gently, and as she guided her mount through the crowd, the glittering lights of the lanterns and the majestic flames of the Great Wheel of Fire were reflected in her her amber eyes in turn.
Passersby stole admiring glances at Shen Ni. Her robes of office and the associated accoutrements proclaimed her rank for all to see, yet they also seemed somewhat at odds with her too-youthful, too-enchanting face.
Zeng Qingluo took note of Shen Ni’s silence, and wondered if she was upset because dashijie had broken their date. To cheer Shen Ni up, she said, ‘I hear there’s a florist in the southwestern corner of the Eastern Market who has some rare varieties in stock,’ she said. ‘Dashijie loves flowers, doesn’t she? Should we go and take a look?’
That roused Shen Ni from her reverie. ‘The flowers in the grounds at home were all blown to pieces by the wind last night,’ she said. ‘We do need to replace them.’
Zeng Qingluo led the way to the florist’s. At the threshold, however, they paused.
The building was a classic three-courtyard residence.[2] The front gates opened onto a small courtyard, which led directly to the shop itself. Through the open doors at the rear of the shop, one could see the larger central courtyard, which led in turn to the main hall. Across the entrance to the main hall hung drapes of unbleached white linen. From behind them came the faint sound of weeping. The family who ran the shop was in mourning, it seemed.
‘We’ve come at quite the wrong time,’ said Zeng Qingluo, as they stepped inside.
One of the display cases, Shen Ni saw, held a stalk of ice-blue night-blooming cereus,[3] with a protective crystal dome placed over it. These flowers were exceeding rare, and what was more, there was a connection between them and her shijie as well.
‘Good evening,’ Shen Ni called out.
At that very moment, there was a coffin sitting in the middle of the main hall, its lid half-opened to reveal the deceased’s visage. By the steps on the western side of the room was a funeral banner hanging from a pole. On it was inscribed the words: Here lies the body of Liu Ji.
Liu Ji’s widow Madam Xu and their children, their eyes red with weeping, were busy receiving family and friends.
‘What a pity that I was delayed returning to Chang’an from the front lines,’ one of the mourners lamented to Madam Xu. He was supporting himself on a pair of crutches. ‘Otherwise I might have been able to see Liu xiong[4] one last time.’
The two of them spoke for a while, then Madam Xu looked down at the man’s maimed leg. ‘What are you going to do?’ she said in worried tones. ‘With your leg in that state, and no one to look after you?’
The man smiled. ‘There’s no need to worry about me, shenzi.[5] Not only is our lord marquess as beautiful as a goddess, she has a kind heart as well. She can make any part of your body as good as new, as long as your head is still attached to your shoulders. The new leg she’s crafting for me will be ready in three days, and after that, I’ll be able to walk as easily as I used to. And most importantly, the compensation I’m getting will be enough to last me for two lifetimes.’
Liu Ji’s eldest son Liu Bolin, who was standing next to them, heard this and wondered: How could a military woman possibly be as beautiful as a goddess? He must be exaggerating.
It was at this point that they heard a customer calling out from the shop.
‘Did you forget to close up?’ Madam Xu asked her son.
‘I must have, what with so many things to take care of,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it right away.’
Liu Bolin parted the white drapes, crossed the central courtyard, then caught sight of the two female officials standing at the display counter. He paused, staring at the taller of the two. She held herself with elegance and poise; one could easily drown in those soft, limpid eyes. Her skin was so luminous that it put all the Shangyuan lanterns to shame.
‘Will you sell me that whole stalk of ice-blue cereus?’ said Shen Ni.
Before Liu Bolin could reply, they heard Madam Xu cry out inside the main hall. ‘No—!’
‘I’m willing to pay a good price,’ Shen Ni went on earnestly.
Madam Xu’s scream, however, had not been directed at her. A few moments ago, one of Liu Ji’s relatives had approached the coffin to pay his respects, and Liu Ji — who had drawn his last breath two full days ago — had suddenly raised his head and sat up in his coffin.
Madam Xu, catching sight of this from the corner of her eye, had thought at first that it was the relative who had lifted Liu Ji into a sitting position. That was why she’d cried out. The relative, however, stumbled backwards in shock. ‘I didn’t touch him!’
At that moment, every single mourner in the main hall wore the exact same expression as Madam Xu: they looked as if they’d just seen a ghost. And in a very real sense, they had.
Liu Ji’s face was caked with thick funeral makeup, and his body was draped in the robes Madam Xu had chosen for the burial. A tiny spoon carved from horn was clenched between his teeth.[6] His neck drooped as limply as a noodle, seemingly barely capable of supporting the weight of his skull. A series of horrifying cracks rose from his throat as he swivelled his head slowly towards the assembled mourners.
He came face-to-face with them, and it was then that they realised that his eyeballs were bulging in the most grotesque fashion. They were also rattling uncontrollably within their sockets, which were practically splintering from the force of the vibration.
Overcome with horror, Madam Xu’s legs gave way, and she sank heavily down on the floor.
‘It’s alive!’ screamed Liu Bolin, as he and the other mourners scattered in fear.
Liu Ji started to rise from his coffin. He launched himself towards the helpless Madam Xu, his mouth agape. In her shock, Madam Xu seemed to have lost all her powers of locomotion; she remained sitting exactly where she was.
The next moment, a hand came heavily down on the top of Liu Ji’s skull, stuffing him back into the half-open coffin.
Liu Bolin, who’d ducked into a corner at the first sign of trouble, saw exactly how this had happened. The tall female official had leapt into the middle of the room. Her arm swept through the air so quickly that it left a gust of wind in its wake. She crammed the runaway beast back into its cage literally single-handed.
Liu Ji howled indistinctly, struggling to get up again. Shen Ni aimed a kick at the lid of the coffin. With a loud rumble, the heavy piece of camphorwood slid towards Liu Ji’s half-raised face, knocking it back down. It slammed firmly home with a bang.
Zeng Qingluo came running into the room, her hand on the weapon at her hip. Her face was deathly pale. ‘Impossible,’ she murmured.
Shen Ni knew why Zeng Qingluo was fearful, but her own eyes held no trace of shock, not a single sign of alarm — only a cool focused intensity that bordered on ruthlessness.
‘My lord marquess!’ a voice called out. It was the man on crutches. He had managed to hobble to the rear courtyard when Liu Ji first attacked, but the sounds of the commotion had drawn him back into the main hall.
Shen Ni recognised him as one of her former troops. ‘Stand back,’ she said.
Liu Bolin stared at her from his corner. So that extraordinarily beautiful woman really was Marquess Jing’an!
Madam Xu, still badly shaken, was just about to open her mouth when a loud crack echoed through the room. The coffin split right down the middle, and its boards went flying in all directions. One of them came hurtling directly towards Madam Xu.
Madam Xu had barely let out a cry when Shen Ni whirled in front of her. Shen Ni put out a hand and caught hold of the board easily — though it was heavy enough that even two strong men might have trouble lifting it — and flung it back in the direction from which it had come. It struck Liu Ji squarely in the face and splintered into pieces, throwing up a cloud of dust.
Despite her obvious fear, Zeng Qingluo still let out a battle cry, drawing her weapon from behind her back. It was only the size of her palm at first, but as she brandished it, purple lightning crackled along its length, and it transformed into a broadsword as tall as she was.
Zeng Qingluo charged forward unflinchingly, swinging her blade. It struck Liu Ji in the back — and met hard, unyielding metal instead of flesh. Sparks flew, and the sword sliced through his robes, revealing a titanium torso that was burning red-hot.
The high-pitched whine of overloaded circuitry issued from Liu Ji’s throat. His neck stretched and went on stretching, until it seemed as long and pliable as a garden hose. Then he swung his head viciously towards Zeng Qingluo.
Zeng Qingluo, alarmed that her blow seemed to have done no damage to Liu Ji, quickly brought her sword up defensively in front of her.
Liu Ji thrashed his head about like the ball of a flail. It struck Zeng Qingluo violently, sending her flying into a pile of clothes and blankets that the mourners had brought.
Madam Xu snapped out of her daze. ‘Half of my husband’s body is titanium!’ she shouted.
Liu Bolin took advantage of Liu Ji’s distraction to drag his mother behind the nearest wall for cover.
The man on crutches was sweating visibly. ‘His implants have… mutated? How’s that possible? My lord, it must be the Black B—’
The last syllable never left his lips. Shen Ni flung him a glare so icy that his scalp prickled, and he clamped his mouth shut.
Shen Ni took off her cloak, intending to drape it across a nearby chair. Then she paused. If I leave it here, dust is bound to get on it, or worse, blood and hydraulic oil. Then I might as well forget about sharing a bed with shijie tonight — she might not even let me into the room.
With a sigh of resignation, Shen Ni folded the cloak up and hung it carefully in the crook of her left arm.
A bone-chilling gust of wind swept into the main hall from the courtyard. Although she was now only wearing robes of thin red silk, Shen Ni stood firm against it, as stalwart and unwavering as a cedar tree in the depths of winter. With a snap of her wrist, a silver-white battlestaff three feet long appeared in her hand. Another snap and it extended, becoming six feet in length.
The corners of Shen Ni’s futou swayed in the wind as she fixed her gaze unblinkingly on Liu Ji. His features were becoming more and more contorted. ‘Take your mother away from here,’ she said calmly. ‘She won’t want to see what happens next.’
Liu Bolin suddenly realised she was speaking to him. ‘Yes, jiejie!’ he responded, and dragged Madam Xu off in the direction of the rear courtyard.
Liu Ji swung his head on its elongated neck towards Shen Ni. Shen Ni vaulted into the air, throwing herself into a somersault. As she descended, she brought her feet heavily down on the back of Liu Ji’s skull, crushing it into pieces as she ground his face into the floor. Then she brought her battlestaff forcefully down on Liu Ji’s neck, severing it in a single stroke. With a loud pop, a roiling-hot stream of hydraulic oil spurted out from the cut.
Shen Ni, who had anticipated this, sidestepped the gush neatly. Something still struck her as odd about the body, however. When she looked down at it again, she saw that there was a crack running across Liu Ji’s back, from the blow Zeng Qingluo had landed with her sword. Having taken the added force of Shen Ni’s attack, it now split open completely. Rancid black blood and more hydraulic oil splashed all over Shen Ni’s gloved hands and the front of her robes.
Well, thought Shen Ni with resignation.
Zeng Qingluo came back into the centre of the room, dusting herself off, just in time to see Shen Ni reaching into Liu Ji’s corpse and extracting his jade core from the ruin. Since her gloves were already dirty anyway, Shen Ni didn’t see the point of bothering with tweezers or the like.
Shen Ni turned towards Zeng Qingluo, using their bodies to shield the jade core from view, so that they were the only ones who could see it. The jade core, nestled in Shen Ni’s palm, should have been the warm white of the stone after which it was named. Instead, it was now pitch black. Its rim was vibrating unsteadily, just as Liu Ji’s eyeballs had done earlier.
Zeng Qingluo stared at the contaminated jade core. Images welled up unbidden in her mind — the bizarre sights she’d witnessed in Yanluo, the malevolent ‘demons’ that roamed the frontier — overlaid with a sense of doom, as if someone had pushed her close to her grave. Her back stiffened; her mind went completely blank.
The still-vibrating jade core in Shen Ni’s hand stretched out two slender black filaments that looked like feelers. They began inching up Shen Ni’s deerskin glove like a pair of wary snakes.
‘Xiaoshijie,’ said Zeng Qingluo, in a trembling voice so low it was barely audible. ‘This man has undoubtedly been infected by the Black Box virus. But we defeated the virus in Yanluo. It should have taken at least another three years for it to awaken from its dormancy again. How could it appear in Chang’an so soon, and without any warning signs at all?’
The black blood stood out starkly on Shen Ni’s robes. Luckily, the Black Box virus did not spread either through it or through hydraulic oil. She ran the scanner in her palm over Liu Ji’s jade core again and again. ‘This version of the virus seems different from what we saw in Yanluo,’ she said.
Zeng Qingluo recalled that what Liu Ji’s son had shouted earlier was, ‘It’s alive!’ and not, ‘The Black Box!’
Chang’an was the only place on the continent not to have suffered any direct incursions from the Black Box. The residents were fully aware of the horrors of the virus, but none of them had experienced the consequences of an infection themselves. It explained why Liu Ji’s family were less alert to the implications of his ‘transformation’ than another family might have been.
Shen Ni dropped Liu Ji’s jade core into the golden pouch at her waist. Designed to hold her ministerial seal, the pouch was a symbol of her status, and she, like all other high-ranking officials, was required to wear it whenever she attended court. Shen Ni, finding its functionality far too limited, had modified the pouch, lining its interior with a layer of shielding capacitors. Any digital device that was placed inside it — even if it contained an active virus, or was running an encryption routine — would be rendered inert.
‘Take this outside the city,’ said Shen Ni, handing the pouch to Zeng Qingluo. ‘Bury it in a hole ten feet deep, and seal that up with mercury.’
‘Yes, commander.’ Zeng Qingluo had once served as a soldier under Shen Ni. On hearing those words, all her old instincts came to the fore, so she acknowledged Shen Ni’s orders with alacrity.
‘And don’t breathe a single word about what happened here to anyone else.’
‘Understood.’
By the time Madam Xu, Liu Bolin and the assembled mourners trailed back into the room, clearly still filled with trepidation, Shen Ni had already placed Liu Ji’s body back into the coffin and closed the lid over it. She turned a sweet smile on them, as if nothing had happened. ‘We need to carry out further investigations into the anomaly that took place this evening,’ she said. ‘Could we ask that Master Liu’s burial be delayed by a few days?’
Madam Xu and Liu Bolin looked at the bloodstains smeared across the floor and the white drapes. It gave them some idea of what must have happened.
It was not uncommon for users to lose control of their cybernetic implants now and again. But for it to happen even after death smacked rather too much of the symptoms that were said to be triggered by a certain entity whose name was too accursed even to mention.
Earlier, Shen Ni’s loveliness had made it impossible for Liu Bolin to imagine her as a seasoned general who bestrode battlefields. But now, seeing how untroubled she was by the streaks of blood on her face, and knowing that the gore and broken prosthetics and shattered cybernetic components that covered the floor were all her doing, her beauty took on a distinctly menacing note.
Madam Xu saw that the young woman before her was wearing robes of high office, and she was clearly a remarkable fighter. She surmised that Shen Ni’s words must carry considerable weight at court. Although the events of the night had shaken her to the core, she was still the Liu family’s matriarch. Gathering herself, she said in a slightly shaky voice, ‘We will do as you see fit, my lord.’
‘I came in here to buy flowers,’ said Shen Ni, who had not forgotten her original objective. ‘Will you sell me that whole stalk of ice-blue cereus you have outside?’
Madam Xu paused. She had not expected that, after everything that had happened in the last hour, Shen Ni would still be in the mood to make her elegant purchase.
‘Bolin,’ she said, ‘bring her lordship the flowers.’
‘Yes,’ said Lin Bolin, and returned promptly with the ice-blue cereus, which he presented courteously to Shen Ni.
As Shen Ni reached out for it, her eyes fell on her blood- and oil-stained gloves. She drew her hands back. ‘Might I request the use of a wash basin?’
She scrubbed her hands again and again, then disinfected them thoroughly. Only then did she take the flowers.
The ice-blue cereus remained inside their protective dome, untainted by a single whisper of blood.
***
When Shen Ni finally returned to her residence, Bian Jin was still not there.
The sight of Shen Ni with blood all over her face and clothes gave Auntie Wan a shock. After confirming that Shen Ni was uninjured, Auntie Wan sent her off to bathe. ‘Otherwise you’ll give her ladyship a fright when she comes home,’ she admonished.
Shen Ni put down the flowers and did as she was bid. She washed herself thoroughly, and after stepping out of the hot spring, she lifted her arms and sniffed at herself. Worried that the smell of blood and oil might still linger, she lit an incense burner and sat by it for a good long while, letting the scent of temple tea soak through her. Shijie probably wouldn’t find her that objectionable now, she thought.
I have something I need to take care of tonight, shijie had said. But now it was past midnight. What could she be doing?
Shen Ni threw a clean fur coat over her shoulders and wandered out to the front gates, sending Bian Jin a Messenger Pigeon text as she did.
***
All was quiet on Xinghua Street.
She was almost at the mansion now, and her broken spine was nearing the absolute limit of its endurance.
A trail of cold sweat was snaking down Bian Jin’s temple. The world seemed to be tilting around her. As she dragged one foot forward after the other, she could barely feel her legs.
‘Mistress Bian! It is you, Mistress Bian!’
Marquess Chengqing’s coach was just passing by. It stopped, and a richly dressed woman hurried down from it, lifting her skirts out of the way. It was Marchioness Chengqing, who lived in the mansion next to Shen Ni’s.
Marchioness Chengqing took Bian Jin’s hand. ‘It’s been such a long time since we saw each other! I’ve thought of you so often since our last meeting. Do you still remember me, Mistress Bian? The last time we saw each other was seven years ago, that day in the pleasure gardens. And now we’re neighbours, imagine that!’
Before her marriage, Marchioness Chengqing had been a unfavoured princess, one of the emperor’s many cousins. Since being sent to the capital as a child, she’d been bullied extensively by her noble counterparts. On the day she’d alluded to, she’d slipped and fallen into the lake at the pleasure gardens. All the young lords and ladies had mocked and jeered at her; none had come to her aid. It was Bian Jin who’d saved her from her predicament. Bian Jin, who happened to be passing through, had fished her out of the water, then taken off her own outer robe and offered it to her.
Marchioness Chengqing had always cherished the kindness Bian Jin had shown her. She knew, too, all about the day Prince Wei had forced his way into Marquess Jing’an’s mansion, as well as Bian Jin’s swift and rather baffling marriage to Marquess Jing’an herself. Now that she finally had the opportunity to speak to her rescuer alone, she wanted to offer Bian Jin some words of care and comfort, but given all that Bian Jin had gone through in the intervening years, she was hard-pressed to find something to say that didn’t risk reopening old wounds.
They were almost at the front gates of Marquess Jing’an’s residence now, and Marchioness Chengqing found herself recalling some rather worrying rumours she’d heard about Bian Jin and her new wife. Her grip tightened around Bian Jin’s hand, and her brow furrowed deeply. This wasn’t something she could come right out and ask Bian Jin about, so she said obliquely, ‘Since the wedding, Mistress Bian, have you and Marquess Jing’an been… getting along well?’
As a rule, Bian Jin did not enjoy physical contact. Even now, although Marchioness Chengqing was only touching her through her glove, it still made her rather agitated. Her dislocated spine was also making itself felt more and more keenly; she could barely stay on her feet.
Bian Jin recalled the glimpse she’d caught of Shen Ni and that other young woman, and the shameful, guilty sensation of having stolen another woman’s lover crept over her. She said, ‘It’s rather awkward, being married to an old acquaintance one doesn’t know all that well.’
Shen Ni arrived at the front gates just in time to hear those words. Ah. That familiar heartlessness, she thought.
At the sound of footsteps, both Bian Jin and Marchioness Chengqing turned to look in Shen Ni’s direction.
Shen Ni’s gaze paused on Bian Jin for a moment, then fixed itself unblinkingly on Marchioness Chengqing’s hand, which was still wrapped around Bian Jin’s. ‘It’s very late,’ she said. ‘Past time we retired to bed.’
The dismissal in her voice was unmistakable.
Marchioness Chengqing let out a nervous chuckle. Swiftly she let go of Bian Jin’s hand, bid Bian Jin farewell with every courtesy, and left with all haste.
Bian Jin shuffled past Shen Ni without looking at her. Her feet dragged along the path: one slow step, then another, even slower one, like an old broken clock that was gradually winding down. Finally, seemingly incapable of moving another inch forward, she reached out and gripped the nearest lamp post tightly in one hand, letting the falling snow enshroud her body.
Shen Ni’s usually calm eyes blazed with flame as she stared at Bian Jin’s back, which was rising and falling shallowly.
Once again, Bian Jin had disappeared; once again, she’d gotten herself injured. She was so badly hurt that she could no longer walk, yet still she refused utter a single plea for Shen Ni’s help.
Bian Jin paused motionless for a long while, her hand on the lamp post. She was just about to press forward again when something wrapped itself tightly around her waist. Bian Jin looked down, and saw that it was Shen Ni’s arm.
‘You—’
The beginnings of Bian Jin’s broken murmur became a low cry as her feet left the ground. Shen Ni had scooped her up in her arms.
The sudden disorientation, the abrupt loss of control, plunged Bian Jin into unconsciousness.
Shen Ni marched through the garden with Bian Jin in her arms, kicking up clumps of snow in her wake.
A few moments later, Bian Jin recovered her senses again. As she struggled to open her eyes, she realised that her face was pressed against something soft. Shen Ni was carrying her.
Shen Ni did not say a single word, did not even look down at the woman in her arms.
The sensation of being so easily restrained by Shen Ni galled Bian Jin somewhat, and beneath that was another, different feeling which she couldn’t quite name. She was silent for a long while before she finally forced out, in a low trembling voice, ‘Put me down.’
The wind had blown Shen Ni’s futou away and left her hair wild and tousled; a few black strands swept across her eyes. All of her usual neatness was gone, as was her air of languid charm; they had been replaced by something dark and oppressive.
‘I fear that’s impossible,’ said Shen Ni coolly. ‘It’s true that I shouldn’t be touching you, knowing how much you abhor dirt. But I did warn you not to exert yourself, shijie — have you forgotten what I said? It wasn’t an easy task for me to get your body back into working order, but now you’ve gone and destroyed it completely again. How can I possibly allow you to keep indulging in such reckless behaviour?’
Bian Jin could say nothing more. Quietly she bore her pain.
Shen Ni’s fur coat and her perfect fine-boned profile shielded Bian Jin from the worst of the wind and snow. Yet she clutched most ungratefully at the front of Shen Ni’s robes, crumpling it into folds that looked like a half-crushed flower.
***
Author’s Note:
Bian ‘Red-Faced, Fuming, Helpless Little Kitten’ Jin: Hmph.
Shen ‘Ice-Cold’ Ni: There’s no point fuming. Whether you like it or not, I am going to fix you tonight.
***
Footnotes:
- The real, historical city of Chang’an contained two large market districts called the Eastern and Western Markets.The Eastern Market sold domestic goods, while the Western Market was a hub for goods imported via the Silk Road. [return to text]
- One of the most common models of the siheyuan (四合院), a traditional type of Chinese residence. The three courtyards are: a small front courtyard leading directly from the main entrance; a large central courtyard around which the main buildings are clustered; and a rear courtyard at the very back. [return to text]
- In Chinese literature and culture, the cereus flower (昙花, pinyin: tanhua), which blooms principally at night, is a symbol of ephemerality. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 兄, literally ‘older brother’. In addition to being a familial term, it is also a polite form of address for a non-blood-related older (or higher status) man of the same generation. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 婶子, literally ‘father’s younger brother’s wife’. In addition to being a familial term, it is also a polite form of address for a middle-aged woman who is older than the speaker. [return to text]
- In the original text, 角柶 (pinyin: jiao si). In historical funeral practices, a ceremonial utensil placed in the deceased’s mouth (ideally prior to rigor mortis setting in) in order to hold it open. This facilitated the funeral ritual known as 饭含 (pinyin: fan han), which involved placing grains, pearls and/or pieces of jade into the deceased’s mouth. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 